


Hardwood Floors

by OneAristoCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneAristoCat/pseuds/OneAristoCat
Summary: Hermione wonders if the carpet matches the drapes.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	Hardwood Floors

Hermione didn’t know when her fascination with his crotch had taken root. 

  
She _did_ know, however, how utterly mortified she would feel should he find out where her musings had her wandering off to. With that and _only_ that in mind, her eyes darted rapidly down to the book on flesh-eating sequoias. If he asked, flushed cheeks were a natural reaction to early-morning reading on dangerous botany and the like.

  
“Really, Hermione,” his smooth voice rang softly, teasingly, from across the room. “You’d think by now you would have acclimated to seeing me without a shirt on.”

  
She peeked at him from behind the book and narrowed her eyes at the white cotton towel wrapped so preposterously around his waist.

  
“It’s not the shirt, or lack thereof, that's the issue here.”

  
Draco laughed, taking the cup of tea he'd been preparing from the counter. “I know.”

  
“You do?”

  
“It’s obvious.”

  
Maybe she called him a presumptuous pillock. Maybe she only thought about it. Honestly, she couldn’t be sure. 

  
Because it didn’t take long for her to become distracted again and for her eyes to start their telltale descent down his torso and… _No! No_. She needed to focus on something else!

  
“You sure you don’t want some?”

  
The prospect of him brewing her some tea a year ago would have her doubling over like she'd been dosed with a whole cauldron of Laughing Potion and tickled with a skunk's tail on top of it. 

  
Since they'd moved into their shared Heads common room, it didn’t seem as ludicrous. 

  
“I’m fine, thank you,” she answered kindly. 

  
_Who knew Draco Malfoy took his tea with fresh ginger root infusion?_

  
He was a psychopath for it, she reckoned, but he said it had a calming effect on him. Hermione giggled at the notion that ginger in his tea soothed him, while gingers in real life were the bane of his existence.

  
From the corner of her eye, she noticed the way his brows furrowed in pleasure as he tasted the mixture. His brows which were a few shades darker than his hair… 

  
_No! Nopety no._

  
“Then, would you care for _coffee_ , ma chérie?”

  
He had drawled the 'coffee' enough so it would rhyme with what she now knew to be a term of endearment for her. Not long ago, any words spoken by him in a foreign language would immediately be filed and construed as insults in her brain. 

  
Since they'd agreed to become friends, it was no longer the case.

  
“No, it's alright,” she declined again, with a smile.

  
_Who knew Draco Malfoy could speak French?_

  
He had picked it up during his summers at one of the many Malfoy properties across the country, from what he'd told her. Hermione found it mildly amusing how his vocabulary mainly revolved around ordering people around to fetch him some food. 

  
She chanced another glance at him, and was met with a curious tilt of the head along with some other French nonsense muttered in her direction. His silvery blond bangs brushed against his forehead with the movement, against his _much_ darker brows…

  
_No! Hell to the no!_

  
“You seem out of it and tense as a boulder. Do you want a massage?”

  
He had first suggested it when she cracked her whole back like a bag of popcorn after a strenuous studying session on a Saturday evening, and Hermione had inspected him from head to toe like he had sprouted cacti out of his arse. 

  
Since he'd asked her to marry him, it became sort of a habit.

  
“No…” she refused with difficulty. 

  
_Who knew Draco Malfoy had the hands of an angel?_

  
At first, she had half-expected them to be cold, unyielding and to have incorporated hidden gadgets of torture to inflict maximum damage on her person. Hermione was relieved and thoroughly satisfied when that wasn’t the case. 

  
Her line of sight trailed to him once more, only to find him making his way towards her curled-up form on the living room couch. The fingers of his left hand pushed the wet strands away from his face, one of the stray pale golden locks falling stubbornly back to his dark, _dark_ eyebrows …

  
_Oh for Merlin's sake!_

  
Draco gently took the book from her hands and sat it at her side. Without bending down, and leaving her at eye level with his navel, he tangled his fingers into her tresses and pushed in tender, repetitive motions against her scalp. 

  
“Seriously, what's on your mind, love?” he asked with a faint hint of amusement. “What are you thinking?”

  
Hermione should have bolted. She should have. Or at least closed her eyes and refrained from breathing to keep her wits about her. But the unblemished expanse of his muscles and the fresh woodsy scent of his shower gel kept her in place.

  
Hermione should have kept her mouth shut. She should have. Or at least turned away and forgo the moaning to keep him in the dark. But they had agreed to remain abstinent until the wedding and she _did_ have her depraved fascination regarding his crotch.

  
So, it poured out.

  
“I’m wondering if the carpet matches the drapes.”

  
His hand stilled its movement on the top of her head and she chanced a glance at him. Draco looked positively befuddled.

  
_Godric bless Pure-bloods and their disconnection from the Muggle world!_

  
“Uhm… okay? I mean, I told you we could transfigure the stuff we already picked out later. Or we can go back to that Pottery… Shed or other again, if you'd like…”

  
Hermione felt tears brimming in her eyes before the fit of uncontrollable laughter even begun. A skunk’s tail brushing all over her wouldn’t have her chortling and wheezing so hard. She noticed Draco taking a cautious step back and laughed even harder. 

  
“I love you,” she cackled, holding her belly.

  
Draco's startled features softened into a sincere smile. “I know.”

  
“You do?”

  
“It’s obvious,” he whispered before taking her lips.

  
Hermione fell back against the couch as his weight pressed down on her, the curves of their bodies moulding perfectly to each other like pieces of a puzzle. 

  
His hand burned a path up her shirt before stopping just shy of her bra and tracing the skin there with the pad of his thumb. She gasped at the unexpected contact and Draco took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, her torso arching in response. The man tasted minty, and spicy, and just plain sinful, and Hermione wondered if she truly deserved the title of Brightest Witch of Her Age when she agreed to this self-imposed torture.

  
Blimey Malfoy, always making her life a living hell. 

  
“We need to put _at least_ two rooms between us right now, or you're gonna end up naked as the day you were born, witch,” he groaned against her lips.

  
She nodded and he pushed himself away from her after lightly kissing her nose. 

  
Hermione couldn’t help but notice that, as it turned out, _she_ wasn’t the one that had ended up naked as the day she was born, and that neither of her assumptions about light blond or dark brown was correct.

  
_Who knew Draco Malfoy was a man of hardwood floors?_

**Author's Note:**

> TLDR: Draco shaves lol
> 
> Hi guys ^^  
> I had this idea for a couple of days and honestly needed a bit of lightheartedness and fun 🤸  
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I liked writing it and it would mean the world to me if I could hear your thoughts on it!  
> 🥰


End file.
